Trauma & Telescopes
by notcrindy
Summary: Post-Pacifist and riddled with Post-Traumatic Stress, a reluctant Flowey goes to therapy. Almost definitely part of the overall "Flowerpot" series. Kind of part of what may be a series of writings about life on the surface, and his relationship with Alphys in particular.


It started as a suggestion by one of the stupid human brain doctors.

("When things are kind," she said, "write that down."

"I don't have any fucking __arms,__ jackass."

"But you can write. I've seen you."

"Shut up.")

He wasn't going to do it at first, anyways. It seemed like a dumb idea. It was too hard to write with his mouth, not to mention disgusting. Besides, if anything, it would strengthen his disillusionment with this world, and then he was back at square one with everything. It just seemed like so much effort with so little payoff.

Then, something happened.

Frisk gave him a hug, and he didn't turn away.

He didn't remember what __sparked__ the hug; you never knew with Frisk. For all you knew, they just went around hugging everyone for no reason at all, and he constantly reminded himself of this so that he didn't feel special. Frisk was kind to __everyone__ and solved __everything__ through hugs and love and friendship bracelets or whatever.

But it had been a nice one, and he hadn't tried to ruin it afterward. He just let the human child hug him, and then-for no reason-let himself feel nice about it. It was weird. It was repulsive. He shouldn't have liked it as much as he did, but it was so warm, and he kind of just gave into it. Let himself sink into it a little.

Frisk was delighted.

He was left with a lot to figure out.

That's all it was; he was just doing this in the name of getting to the bottom of the moral nature of this world once and for all. He was just doing this because he was so insistent that this world was a festering cesspool of bad decisions and dark days, and things like that hug made him even more eager to prove it. He had to shut everyone else up somehow, and maybe if he came up with concrete proof of the world's pointlessness, they'd believe him and leave him alone.

So he'd waited, and then he pulled out his sketchbook.

It was his old sketchbook; no one ever bothered to buy him a new one. Proof of his old identity riddled so many pages, it almost made him sick. He could even see his old name scrawled messily in the front:

 _ _If this book is found, please return to__

 _ _Asriel Dreemurr__

It made him shudder with disgust, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. He'd thought about ripping out all the pages, to be sure, and they'd be easy to discard. No one even knew he had this thing still, and almost no one knew who he was. No one would miss crummy crayon drawings from when the world felt boundless because no one even cared enough to look or think about it. But he just couldn't do it, and it was still his, and anyway…

Wasn't this the best way to prove, if only to himself, that Asriel was dead?

Maybe if he could even present Frisk and Alphys with enough, they'd shut up about it. He'd convince them that he'd really thought about it, he'd really __tried,__ but he'd arrived at the conclusion that this world was a crap sack and it took almost no effort. He'd dug deep down inside of himself to try to find this soft thing they thought of and knew and come up empty, so there was no use trying to rescue him. No use trying to be kind to him. No use trying to bring him back out of something that was there for good.

And if Asriel was dead, no one was around to miss the sketchbook.

He could take it for good and ignore the rest.

It took a lot of tries, but when he finally got to a blank page, he wrote.

 **REASONS THE WORLD IS BAD.** No.

 ** **THE WORLD IS BAD. HERE'S WHY.**** No!

 **Reasons to kill** _ _(myself? others?)__ in one column,

 **Reasons to BE KILLED** in another.

He stared at it.

Still not right.

After covering an entire page with green scribbles, he got frustrated enough to start over. At the top in marker so green it bled through the pages, writing with so much anger, he put it as big and bold as he could and underlined it three times.

 **EVIDENCE!**

Satisfied with this, the flower set to work on making two columns.

 **Good world** said one,

 **BAD WORLD** said the other.

"Bad World" was easiest to start with, so he did that first. Gave himself a moment to rest because writing with his mouth was __fucking hard,__ and then began to scrawl in angry green letters, bleeding through the page again.

 ** **killed by humans****

 ** **chara is dead****

 ** **parents don't remember me****

 ** **turned into flower****

 ** **forced to live on surface (with IDIOTS!)****

 ** **school****

 ** **therapy****

Flowey was actually proud of himself for having such an extensive list when all was said and done. He could've left it at that, and maybe he should've; after all, that settled it, didn't it? The World Was Bad. His job was done. But he couldn't ignore the good column he made, no matter how much he wanted to, so he kept at it. Begrudgingly, he made space to write there.

 ** **CANDY****

 ** **PIE****

 ** **RAINBOWS****

 ** **STARS****

 ** **FRISK HUGGED ME****

He sat staring at the last thing for awhile, green marker still in his mouth, and then made a decision.

 ** **Frisk**** ** _ _ **hugged**__** ** **me,**** he wrote in the "Bad World" column too. When he stuck his tongue out, the marker fell, but it was a good enough place to end it anyway.

For the next few weeks, he went everywhere with it. No one could take it away, and when they tried to, he told them all as smug and smiling as possible that he was __supposed__ to do it. They let him use it in class, and he'd try not to giggle as he drew a caricature of his teacher's face under the "Bad World" column. He used it outside, and every piece of evidence for the wretchedness of this world existed on the playground, so it filled up his sketchbook nicely.

 ** **mean kids,**** he wrote with equal amounts of righteous anger and glee when people misgendered Frisk on purpose.

 **STUPID kids,** he wrote again when they were too stupid to stop, and the teachers had to pry him off of some human kid because he'd bit them without hesitation. Frisk had been embarrassed, but strangely grateful, which was okay (but too abstract to be listed under either column).

Even at home, it had its uses. He caught himself putting things like **Papyrus came over today!** in the good column, and then later, ****WE HAD SPAGHETTI.**** in the bad. Not only was it helping him keep tabs on everything, but it gave him a place to say things without judgment. Everyone tolerated people like Papyrus's brother all the time without a second thought and waved him off when he said he hated him, but the book didn't mind. After one particularly obnoxious prank at the dinner table, he wrote in the biggest and boldest and angriest tone he could ever hope to muster:

 **SMILEY TRASHBAG. (THE WORST!)**

It didn't actually help anything, but he felt a little better afterward and a little less annoyed.

It wasn't just good for skeletons, in that regard; it was good for __everything.__ When Toriel didn't let him have candy for dinner, he wrote that down. When Undyne sipped golden flower tea right in front of his face again, he wrote that down. When he had to sit through another one of Alphys's dumb animes because no one else was available to look after him, he scribbled angry thoughts through the entire thing.

"Th-this is a really good episode," she kept reassuring him.

"Haha, yeah," he'd say.

 ** **MEW MEW KISSY CUTIE IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE GARBAGE,**** he'd write.

For a little while, it was nice having that space to vent. He started to become hyper aware of how many slights the world contained, even more than usual, and every time something rubbed him the wrong way he scrawled it down furiously. Occasionally there would be a nice sunset or something to offset the whole thing, but his "Bad World" column was starting to grow miles long, and he felt glad to know that every time the world was so unspeakably horrible (or just irritating), he could get it all down somewhere. When he felt like screaming, he wrote instead.

But then he showed the stupid therapist.

"That's a lot of bad, Flowey," she said.

"I know," he trilled. "It's so __much,__ huh?"

"Do you remember what I said?" She asked, in that stupid sickly sweet voice. It was condescending. "I said when things are kind, write it down."

"Well, I __know__ that," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "But your idea was __stupid.__ So I took it and I made it better, see? And by the end of this, I'll know; I'll know for sure. By the end of this, I'll be able to tell you, I'll be able to tell Frisk, I'll be able to tell everyone."

"What will you be able to tell them, Flowey?" She was such an idiot.

"Isn't it obvious? The __true__ nature of this world." He was smiling.

"I see." She wasn't. "Listen, Flowey, I'm not sure you understood the point of this exercise."

 _ _I did it wrong,__ his brain whispered.

He tried to ignore it.

"I was hoping that, by doing this, we could help you see some good in the world, even after all that's happened to you."

 _ _Wrong and bad,__ it said inside.

"But it looks like you're just using it to convince yourself that the world is a __bad__ place. I'm not sure you __should__ do this anymore, maybe we need to find something-"

"So it was __pointless?__ Just like everything __else?__ "

"Not at all, but sometimes-"

"You had me work for fucking __weeks,__ " he spat, "on something that had no __point,__ and you're __worried__ about me seeing the world as __worthless?"__

"Flowey, please, listen to me-"

" __**NO.**__ " When the word came out it felt like it was separate from him, more than him somehow, and he saw the way she flinched at it. "I'm __**through**__ listening to you. You and your garbage advice. All of you give me so much __advice,__ but none of you __**understand.**__ None of you know __**anything.**__ "

She was silent. He must have been wearing a scary face.

"None of you know __**anything at all,**__ and I'm __**sick**__ of you acting like you do. You're all __**morons.**__ You're all __**IDIOTS,**__ and I won't take it anymore. I __can't__ take it anymore. What could a human like you possibly know about __anything?__ What could a human like you even do to __help me?__ I'm __done. Fuck your stupid book, and fuck you.__ "

The next thing he knew, Toriel was in the room, and the book was destroyed.

She was apologizing profusely on his behalf, and the stupid therapist lady looked so shaken up over something, and everything seemed so far away. He snarled at her one last time as Toriel took him so calmly out of her office, out of the stupid building, and to the stupid human car. Frisk sat dutifully in their usual seat next to him in the back, and that was stupid too.

When she didn't say anything, he glared out the window.

Finally, after a heavy sigh and some driving, she spoke.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Flowey," she said.

"Good," he said back.

"That is the fourth human therapist we've tried."

"It's not __my__ fault they're stupid."

"They are only trying to __help,__ Flowey. You cannot keep terrorizing them like this."

"I did what she s _ _aid!__ " He burst out into anger before he realized it, and Frisk was covering their ears. "She told me to write reasons in a stupid book and I __did it.__ I did it, but since it's not perfect happy fun times, nobody __cares.__ "

"Use your inside voice in the car, please."

"I __listened__ to this one," he howled. "I __tried!__ Frisk knows."

As usual, they had a really excellent poker face in situations like these, but Flowey knew Frisk well enough to be aware of the slightly sympathetic looks they were sending in his direction (and to hate that, too).

"Even so," Toriel said softly, and now her eyes had that horribly sympathetic look in them, too. "I think she was right. I do not think you should be convincing yourself of the horrors of the world like that."

"It's not my fault," he tried, voice cracking. "The world is __terrible.__ "

She didn't say anything else, but he saw a pain in her eyes that was difficult for him to stomach. When they finally pulled into the driveway, he thought about what he'd write in the book, and then he realized the book was gone.

Toriel had to put him in "time-out" until he could "stop screaming."

Frisk nearly went in after him but was told very gently that he just needed time alone and not to worry themselves. He didn't blame either of them for this. All he could possibly think about was that he'd destroyed his own book, and now it was gone, and he'd done it wrong anyway. All he could think, as he writhed and thrashed and yelled even from the flowerpot that confined him, was that it was all his fault.

Was that now he couldn't write all he could do was scream.

Scream, and then…

...screaming became crying…

...became tired. Became so exhausted.

Petals drooping.

When he heard a knock at the door, he barely responded.

"A-Asriel? Is it okay if I come in?"

Oh. There was only one voice that stuttered like that, that hesitated enough to even care about knocking, that called him that name despite his insistence. He was too tired to tell her to fuck off, and anyway, the sooner he got this over with the sooner everyone would leave him alone like he wanted to be.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess."

"O-Okay." When she entered the room, she shut the door behind her so carefully. "Th-thanks for letting me-"

"Don't worry about it, Alphys." His voice was flat.

"O-Okay." She went silent in that awkward way for a moment. "U-Um, is it okay if I sit on the bed?"

"It's Frisk's. I don't care."

"O-Okay." She did, and he almost laughed at how she looked just as awkward and uncomfortable as before, fidgeting with anxiety. "Um, look, Asriel. I know you had a really bad day, and um-"

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

"Okay. That's-that's totally fine," she reassured him. "That's __more__ than okay. But I did want to know, um, something else."

Sometimes it took her awhile. "Get to the __point,__ Alphys."

"W-Well, I was just wondering if I could show you something really cool." She was adjusting her glasses, which made her look like even more of a nerd even as she said it. Her expression was sincere, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"If it's another one of your human animes, I'm not in the __mood__ -"

"N-no!" Her face flushed with a hideous embarrassment. "It's nothing like that, I promise. You'll really __like__ this, um… I think."

Flowey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You __swear?__ "

"I promise."

"... _ _Pinky__ promise?"

"Yeah," she said, looking him right in the eyes. "I um, pinky promise you."

He made the most serious eye contact of his life, then broke it, giggling. "Well, that's __sure stupid of you, Alphys.__ I don't even __have__ pinkies!" His voice was sweet and giddy; he was just glad she could sometimes be so funny.

To his relief, she laughed, too. "W-Wow, um. You really got me there, huh?"

"Yeah, you _ _idiot,__ " he sang. "You're a scientist! You should __know__. Well, anyway, if it's… ...really cool, and not a dumb anime, and also Undyne's not there, then… then I'll go."

Alphys chuckled a little bit when he mentioned Undyne, but he always had to make sure. "No, Undyne's not there. Not… ...um, right now, today. No one's going to be there except us."

He considered this carefully. "...Do you really, 100%, absolutely __swear__ that-"

"Yes, Asriel. I __swear.__ "

"...Okay. Then I'll trust you." After a moment, he added an afterthought. "With __this.__ "

"That's fair." She was smiling. He didn't know whether or not to find that suspicious as she scooped his flowerpot up into her arms. "A-And I'm glad you do trust me, but come on. You gotta see this."

"Wait. Where are we going?"

"Outside. Just trust me, okay?"

He tried his best. She let Toriel know they were just going to be outside for a bit, nothing major, and he said nothing. She put his pot down on the grass in the front yard, and he didn't question it. But she looked so excited that it honestly made him a little nervous, and eventually, his suspicion won out.

"Um, Alphys," he tried, "what the hell are we doing out-"

"You like stars, right?" Even in the darkness, he could see that she was excited.

"Um… ...yeah, a lot, but-"

"Then I have something really cool. Look at this!"

With a dramatic flourish, she pulled a sheet off of something in the darkness to reveal… ...a telescope. "Oh," he said, awkwardly. "That's… ...neat. Listen, Alphys, I've been through this a __lot__ of times with Sans and I'm not really feeling up to it right-"

"It's not a prank," she reassured him, voice still slightly giddy. "I promise! There's just real stars up there, not diamonds or anything. Come see."

"Um…" He shot a glance at the sky with stars already in it, eyes confused. "Sure, okay."

She picked him up and held him so he could look through. "How cool, right?"

At first, he was skeptical, but then it became better than he even imagined. Not only could he see the stars that were already there better, somehow, but he could see new things. Things he didn't quite understand but had never seen before, all probably supposed to be pinpricks. He wasn't supposed to be looking at any of it, and it was forbidden if it was so far away, and that made him even happier.

" _ _Golly,__ " he gasped.

"I __know.__ " She agreed with him. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I've never seen anything like this before," he confessed, sincerely. "Never, ever."

"I hadn't either," she said. "But I just knew I had to show you because I know you like stars, I can tell when you look at them, and-"

"I can't believe I've never __seen__ this before. Wow!"

"Haha. Pretty neat, huh?"

"I-I don't want to ever stop." He felt almost in a daze, looking at this different world. "I-I love it. Wow, I-did I just say I __love__ it? Am I capable of _ _loving__ things suddenly? Gross."

Alphys laughed again. "Well okay, but um… I have something else to show you, too. You can use that telescope anytime, by the way. Just ask me."

"Golly," he said again. "Thanks, Alphys. That's real neato."

"You're welcome." When she took him away, he felt a little disoriented. "But um, come back down to Earth for a second."

"Okay," he mumbled, tone reluctant.

She sat him back down on the grass, then took her own seat beside him. "Okay. Look, I-I know you said you don't want to talk about what happened earlier."

"I __don't.__ " He went on the defensive so fast it even surprised him.

"A-And that's totally fair!" She put her hands up as if to offer him proof that she was backing off. "I-I totally respect that. But well, I-I was thinking about what happened, because um, you know, I was told about it."

"Ugh. Of course you were."

"Yeah, but um… ...I was thinking… and I got a present for you." She unveiled this next, still blushing so furiously beside him. It was wrapped and it had a bow on it and everything. "I hope that's okay."

"...Why?" He tilted his head, confused. "It was just a bad day. Everyone has those."

"Y-Yeah…" She trailed off a little. "Yeah, I know, but um. I-I just-look, I'll just open it for you, I really didn't think this through." Her hands fumbled awkwardly with the wrapping paper, and he would have laughed if he hadn't been so curious.

It was another book.

"L-Look, I know people don't think the last one was a very good idea," she said after a moment, as he was staring at it. "I-I know they think it just hurt you to think about how bad things are. But I don't think you were the problem with that at all."

He blinked. "You __don't?__ " Flowey didn't know what was wrong with her.

"O-Of course not!" She insisted nonetheless. "It's, see, Asriel… ...it's not up to you right now to say everything good about the world. It's up to us to give you… ...reasons… to know it's good. It was stupid to just… ...it was so… I can't believe humans are like…" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We need to give __you__ 'evidence.' You don't need to give that to __us.__ "

"...Huh."

"Y-Yeah, and um… … l-look." She was averting her eyes now, in the way she did when she was about to talk about something heavy. He braced himself slightly. "I __know__ how hard it is sometimes to find any good about anything. About the world, about yourself, about anything. Wh-when I think about you filling that book up with all those bad things, I don't think about how wrong you are - I think about how, um. Overwhelming it is, to feel so many bad things that… ...you can fill a whole book."

"Oh," he said. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"I know it gets to be a lot," she tried again. "And I'm-I'm sorry."

"This world is stupid," he finally admitted, voice soft. He was looking away from her too.

"I know. I know it __has__ been, to you, maybe better than… ...well, anyone. But um… ...if you're willing to let me…" She scooted closer to him in the grass and patted the notebook slightly, awkwardly. "I can help you figure out some __good__ things to put in there, too."

He was quiet. Crickets were off chirping somewhere.

"A-and hopefully… ...maybe I already… have?" She risked a glance at him.

He looked up at the stars, then back at her. "Yeah, you… You did." His voice was bewildered. "You really did, today. Thanks, Alphys."

"O-Oh, um. No problem. You're, um, you're welcome, it's the least I can…"

Without even realizing it, he leaned on her, and his eyelids grew heavy.

"It's late," she said, kindly, even though she looked surprised. "We can do this in the morning."

But he was so tired, and her voice was already so far away.

When he dreamed next, he dreamed of stars.


End file.
